Connections
by juliasejanus
Summary: A strange story born of having flu and watching Life Seasons 1 and 2 and thinking Crews and Alex would be great together Set six years after Scorpia Rising and Post Season 2 Life. Contains adult themes and situations and slash relationship. May change to M later
1. Chapter 1

_October 31st 2002 _

_The Chapel, Brompton Cemetery, London_

_Alexander John Rider_

_1987-2002_

_In Memoriam_

Tom Harris read these words on the cover of the order of service and seethed. He sat and listened to the two adults who stood up to speak and tell lies of about a teenager who had lost his way after the death of his beloved uncle and committed suicide. Every utterance was pure fiction. They did not know Alex. It was complete bullshit. Tom wanted to stand up and scream this fact, but his mother would kill him for embarrassing her. He knew there was no body in the coffin being placed in the ground. Alex had not died in London. Tom was pretty sure Alex was dead. The last communication from Alex Rider had consisted of three identical letters sent by surface mail from Moscow dated 21st September 2002 and had arrived five days ago.

This operation has been a complete SNAFU from the start. If I have not phoned you by the time you get this letter I will be dead. Do not mourn me. I am at peace with my imminent end. I knew I had no luck left after Cairo.

Alex.

PS Dear Mrs Jones/John Crawley/Ben Daniels if you're reading this, Mark Donovan, is already dead. I am on the streets at the moment as I do not know any contacts or safe houses here as no one told me. Its great being on your own, a thousand miles from home, with both Russian Federal authorities and the Mafia after your blood.

The short note had been sent to Sabina, Tom and James Sprintz.

Tom scowled as his classmates from Brookland acted like Alex Rider had been their friend. That they were sorry he'd passed. Even here, they had whispered and gossiped about the cause of death, the favourite was Alex ODing on heroin. The only drugs Alex took were his prescribed anti depressants. They were as big hypocrites as those gits from MI6 and the SAS who stood at the back. Miss Bedfordshire was weeping openly. Mind you so was a huge bloke in his army uniform. Tom guessed from his description this was Eagle. Sabina and her family had not come. She and her parents had decided not to grace MI6's charade with their presence, not after Crawley had turned up two months ago to blackmail Alex. Threats that his presence near Sabina made her a target. Alex would have done anything to protect Sabina. He'd only been well enough to go back to operations because he'd improved amazingly due to the Pleasure's support over that summer and a shit load of therapy. For what, to get forced back into spying at the first opportunity.

James Sprintz had let all the other graduates from Point Blanc Academy know and the floral tributes were huge. There was a strange Russian kid here as well with his mother and a body guard. It proved that Alex had made a difference and that he had friends. Not that it made the fact he'd died alone any easier to stomach. A small part of Tom hoped that Alex had walked away, got a new identity. The fact was he would never know. His friend was gone. He was one of the few genuine mourners at this debacle.


	2. Chapter 2

December 2008

Charlie Crews had his third partner in a year, Detective Mike Roswell. Jane Seever had decided to join the FBI task force trying to sort out the mess the death of four FBI agents and Roman Nebikov had caused. Danni Reece had passed her lieutenant's exam on her first try and had been transferred to run her own station. She and Kevin Tidwell had decided to move in together. Crews had not spoken to his former partner for weeks. She was busy and happy. Crews had stopped even leaving messages. Tidwell passed on Crews' greetings and told Crews about their home and plans.

Crews did not like his new partner. Roswell was the type of cop who liked the easy ride, the type that went with the crowd. He reminded Crews of the CO in Pelican Bay who just kept pushing Crews even though Crews had his place in the pecking order after seven years inside. The bastard should have known better than attack a con in an area with no surveillance and on his own. Crews had not been that brutal. The CO didn't return to work at Pelican Bay after that. Word was he was a bit of a basket case.

It was early in the morning, a dawn surfer had found a body on the beech at Venice. Guess what, Roswell was late.

The body had not been in the drink long and had a bullet hole in the skull. The kid who found the body was being looked after by the patrol officers. The young man was sat on the sand shivering in an expensive wetsuit. His board on the sand by the patrol car. As he approached, Crews noted the kid was speaking Spanish to Officer Hernandez. The surfer looked a true Californian, tall, lean and blond. The kid looked at Crews and paled, The young man then spoke a short sentence in Russian, smiled and then continued as if he expected Crews to be able to understand him.

"Detective Crews, this is Sasha Suarez." Hernandez then lowered his voice. "You remember Sergeant Suarez at the Academy. This is his adopted son."

Crews did remember Suarez. Ex-marine. Tall, grim, no nonsense. Every cadet and rookie on the force had been scared of him. He must have retired while he was inside. No one crossed Suarez. Even gang members were respectful to the man who was a decorated marine gunnery sergeant, who taught self defense at youth centers across LA, had coached little league and was a community leader.

"So Ding is you're dad?"

The kid smiled at the use of his dad's marine nickname "Yeah, well. He fostered me when I was fifteen." The kid said still looking at Crews closely, as if reading him.

Crews pulled out an apple and began to eat it, watching mirth flicker into the kids brown eyes and Sasha shook his head. Crews then asked "What did you just say, you know when I first arrived?"

"You look like a guy I used to know. A russian dude." The kid looked at the ocean with the same intensity that Crews looked at the sun in those few moments of clarity and peace. The kid then fixed the detective with an intense glare "Did you know you look scarily like Yassen Gregorovich? I mean darker hair, you don't move the same, different voice, but you do look like him."

"Yassen Gregorovich huh? Should I know him?" asked Crews.

The kid's body language changed again. Closed off. "No. He died in 2001. He ... he was a friend of my birth father's. Its complicated."

"OK, Sasha." They then talked of the body. The kid had first thought it was a drowning surfer. The kid had pulled the body out, before noticing the head wound. The kid went to get changed and would give a full statement at the station.

Crews was not surprised when Ding Suarez was stood next to Sasha when he arrived back to his desk. Ding gave Crews the evil eye, but then Crews noted he gave everyone the evil eye except his kid. The man fussed the kid. That was something Crews never expected to see.

Crews took the statement, got his hand crushed by the retired Sergeant and the kid smiled at him observing the power play taking place. After he filed his paperwork, Crews looked up Yassen Gregorovich on the system. The picture of a corpse showed up on the Interpol file. Terrorist attack on Air Force One in London, August 2001. Assassin working for Scorpia and a list of known hits and associates. Then Crews looked up Sasha. The Church of the Saviour incident Thanksgiving 2002. Five russian kids, trafficked for the sex trade had turned up at the church asking for help. Youngest a six year old boy, a ten, twelve and fourteen year old girls and a fifteen year old, badly injured Sasha. The kid had turned down a city commendation in 2003 after stopping a school shooting incident. Sasha now lived off Wiltshire Blvd, Little Russia in LA. Worked as a photographer's assistant, Karate Instructor and tutor of languages. Twenty one years old. Ding treating him like he was ten and the kid let him. Sasha Suarez was more interesting than the case. Crews then thought of the now, got himself back in the moment. Minor drug dealer shot dead. Deal gone bad. The perp would most likely be the next body on the slab.


	3. Chapter 3

Sasha drove back home. Sunday at home in Compton. Ding Suarez lived with his partner Carlos Ruiz. The Police sergeant had kept his private life completely separate from work. After his retirement the couple had started to foster kids. Sasha was their third foster placement and so far only permanent adoption. A decision to adopt had been made after the Sasha had packed all his belongings and cleaned his room on the eve of his sixteenth birthday with the expectation of being placed in a half way house. The other kids they fostered went back home or onto more suitable prospective adoptive parents. They currently were fostering Miguel a twelve year old gang member and eleven year old Luisa, whose Mom was in hospital undergoing cancer treatment.

Sasha's beat up truck pulled into the driveway behind his dad's Ford Taurus. The man drove an ex police car, even now seven years after retirement. A replacement bought from the pool every two years. Connections. The cars were ridiculously cheap. Suarez always got one driven by IAD. No blood, urine or vomit stains nor any internal wear and tear. The worst damage was a spilt cup of coffee. IAD cars were always clean with the least milage over their lifespan.

Suarez waited for his son to exit his truck. His tall blond so very un-hispanic son except his lovely dark brown eyes. Six years ago, Sasha had come round after surgery mumbling in Cuban Spanish about the market in Santiago. When his social worker asked about his past the kid spoke in generalizations, no family names mentioned, no addresses or schools, all in perfect Cuban Spanish. "You OK?" said the man in English.

"Yeah. Fine, Dad" said the young man, lost in thought. They walked into a typical LA house. Large wooden built, three bedrooms, large open space living area, basement. Everyone else was out. "Sorry for disturbing your day" said Sasha like he'd just realised he was home.

"Distracted?" Suarez was concerned. "That cop do something?"

"Umm Crews? No. He looks like someone I knew... before." Alex said looking earnestly at his dad.

"Before huh." Suarez tensed with that one word. They would talk later. When Sasha had gotten over his shock. Ding Suarez hated that word, before. Hated all the crap that went with his son's awful past. He'd first seen Sasha in the hospital in 2002 as the initial foster placement. The whole incident at Saviour's had been a media and diplomatic nightmare. The four younger kids had been returned to Russia. Sasha had stayed in LA, after refusing to give his full name or to talk of his past. Afraid to.

"Can I go lie down? I need to get myself together."

"Sure." Ding Suarez fingered the card with Crew's number.

Suarez walked into the Lucky Seven Bar. He knew Mitch the barman, ex cop, invalided out of the LAPD after a bad hostage situation. Ding did not drink, he had and still kept his social visits to the functions he could not get out of. He had friends, but he was a very private person. Not that anyone had ever commented about his lifestyle to his face. Any rookie that had regretted it as no one else joined in or laughed at their jokes. Ding was a good man, a good Samaritan but he knew the system, turned a blind eye when needed. He had helped more than a few colleagues out of tight spots. Getting them help. Never once asking for anything in return.

The Bar was empty on a Sunday afternoon. Family time. "Yo Ding. Crews' is in the back. Don't hurt him too much. Captain Tidwell likes him." stated the barman cheerfully.

Crews was sat in the back room at the Lucky Seven and simply greeted the ex-cop, "Ding."

"Charlie" Suarez had not known Officer Crews well prior to his conviction. As a patrolman, Charlie Crews had been a career cop, more interested in downtime and home than work. The case against Crews had seemed black and white as reported. Crews after his release and promotion to Detective and had a startling, driven, unorthodox but successful career on the homicide/robbery team. Not withstanding the three investigations by IAD in two years and two by FBI. The man was a good cop but the book was thrown out of the window, the man was never going to back down. Never take the easy path. "What did Sasha say this morning? Hernandez said he spoke to you in Russian."

"I had it translated. Umm, first 'You look good for a dead man' and then 'So, Yassen why are you dressed as a cop?' "

"You remembered what he said?" Suarez was amazed that the man could recall something that Sasha had probably just whispered.

"I have had dealings with Russian's before. I thought the kid had crossed Roman Nevikov's path."

"Maybe. We still don't know who trafficked the kids or how they were smuggled into LA. Nevikov was a suspect but that man was like teflon until you got you're claws into him Sasha doesn't know who was responsible. He was abducted off the streets in Moscow in early November 2002. He was a fifteen year old thief, a pickpocket, con artist. The others were taken before processing by Russian Children's Services. All were orphans. So, Sasha thought you were Yassen Gregorovich, back from the dead."

"How does your son connect to that terrorist?"

"Don't chase this Crews. Don't bring those people back into Sasha's life. Leave it alone. If you want to know more, talk to Sasha. Its his secret to tell. Not anyone else. He was shocked by you're resemblance to that bastard, so he slipped up." Fifteen year old Sasha had told Children's Services very little. It was assumed he was half russian and half cuban. With no papers, no missing person's reports and no family history except 'my parents died when I was a baby'. They had made him a ward of the State. He was a US Citizen now.

"Nevikov can't hurt Sasha anymore." Charlie said earnestly. A man protecting his kid was something he could understand completely.

"Other people, just as dangerous and unscrupulous as Roman Nevikov, used and abused Sasha. They are who I'm afraid of."

"These people aren't Russian, are they?" guessed Crews.

"No. Some are very close to home." said the marine cryptically.

Crew nodded. "Last time we talked you called me rookie, three and a half years on the force I was still a rookie."

"Now you're a Detective. See you round Charlie."


	4. Chapter 4

November 2002

Natasha washed the blood off Sasha beaten and abused body. Sasha ran the game of distracting the two thugs from her and the other kids. He took punishments to protect them. Natasha knew Sasha was continually analyzing routine, sounds, their location but time was running out. Tomorrow they would be spilt up and sold on. Sasha wanted to get them all out together. Then Natasha noted he was smiling and holding two bits of wire. In minutes the padlocks and manacles were picked loose. They crept along the corridor to the exit. She then watched as Sasha efficiently eliminated the guards. The two thugs did not expect an attack. Sasha now had cash and a set of car keys. They could escape.

They drove through the industrial estate and Sasha spoke for the first time. "We are in LA. Los Angeles. America. We need to loose this car. We shall eat first. Then find a place to stay. Somewhere safe." Four pairs of blank expressionless eyes watched Sasha. Their silence was their agreement.

Originally there had been over twenty kids. Sasha had woken from his drugged sleep in a hangar at a small airfield. The shipment was split there. The teenagers and children pushed into vans. Gagged and chained together.

They walked away from the car after eating the drive through food ordered by Sasha, conversing in English with a smooth American accent. With the car abandoned. The children shuffled along the side walk. Anna and Olga supporting Sasha and Natasha carrying Little Pytor. Sasha then pointed to the church. "We ask for sanctuary. I can't walk much further N'tasha." His face was grey. She noted the faint spray of blood on his lips.

Sasha shuffled to the altar holding his ribs like he was holding his body together. Speaking with a thick russian accent "Father?"

The priest looked around to see a boy who had been badly beaten and four other children behind him. All still, pensive and quiet. Waiting.

"In the name of the father and holy mother we beg for sanctuary. Please help my brother and sisters." the boy rasped.

The priest looked puzzled "And for yourself child?"

Sasha smiled and blood bubbled on his lips. He then let go and fell. Natasha then screamed and all the children ran forward to their fallen brother.

The paramedics pushed a line into the kid put oxygen onto his face and then rushed him to the nearest trauma unit. The kid had internal bleeding, a punctured lung and was far too skinny.

The boy was speaking. In English the cop noted. "Let me go. Please let me go. I want to go to my parents. Let me go." The cop knew the kid's parents were dead. The kids all showed signs of abuse but this teenager had obviously protected the others from the worst of it. Now he wanted peace. The cop hated it when they came across kids abused to the point death was a blessed release.


	5. Chapter 5

December 2008

Charlie was trying to find his moment, but found himself for a third time this week watching Sasha Suarez surf in the grey predawn.

Two floors down from his desk was Psychological Services, Charlie had made an appointment. Lynne Cools smiled as she welcomed him into her office. Charlie could not believe this calm space with the water feature and low, subdued lighting was in the same building as the hustle and bustle everywhere else. Charlie normally went to the roof for quiet, well as quiet as it got in LA.

"So Detective, What's troubling you?"

"Call me Charlie." He sat and faced the fifty year old woman, with the worn but calm face. She reminded Charlie of his dear departed mother. "I'm having trouble staying in the now. Reece could always snap me back or caught me before I wandered out of the moment, but I can't connect with my current partner and I loose my grounding and find myself not in the moment."

"Describe staying in the moment to me"

"Umm. What I should be thinking and feeling. The job, the case or the girl I'm with." Charlie then laughed. "Its been a series of girls since I got out of Pelican Bay. Young fun, none touched by anything dark or with any connection to me or my past."

"So do you want a serious relationship, Charlie?"

"I was happily married before. I did not stray. I did not need to. Jen was my high school sweet heart. The only girl for me until I went inside. My only one."

The psychologist made a brief note. "Did you have sexual relationships inside?"

"I had masturbated a lot. I had sex with a couple of guys after the divorce, after I got out of SHU."

"Penetrative sex?"

"Yeah full anal intercourse as both top and bottom. I connected with them. It wasn't rape. I don't count the rapes." The psychologist noted the brief lost expression on Detective Crews face before he blanked it.

"You were raped in prison?" Lynne wrote the note in his file.

"Yes. First year. After I came out of SHU I knew who to intimidate and who to avoid." Charlie sighed "I'm... I've connected with this guy I met last week. I want to get to know him. Not as a friend. I want to connect.. Shit I want him OK." Charlie looked at the water feature and watched the surface move and the light shimmer. Thoughts of Sasha bled into the now. "I'm obsessing over him. He's beautiful." Charlie closed his eyes to see the sinuous fluid movements of the surfer's body riding his board.

"Are your thoughts about controlling him?"

"No, Maybe." A hard look crossed Charlie Crew's face. "Sex in Prison is mostly about control. Pleasure is not enough for me. I want more ... I don't know what I want. I feel lost."

"Charlie have had any counseling since your release?"

"A couple of sessions for my psychological placement before rejoining the force. I went to one of Reece's meetings once. You know the program."

"Do you use alcohol or medication to keep you in the moment?" asked the counselor queried with a soft understanding voice.

"The occasional beer and tylenol don't count?" Charlie bet she was writing denial on her pad.

"No Charlie." Lynne moved closer and looked at the detective who had opened his soul for the first time. "Have you spoken to your friends about the assaults in prison?"

"Ted knows. I helped Ted get through a rough patch inside. He was also assaulted... raped. Ted and I are our own support group. But he's in Spain."

"You are confused over your sexuality. Experiment. Find whats good for you. Consensual sex no matter the partner is normal. Date, Charlie. Not casual sex. Go on a date. My door is open. OK."

Lynne Cools pulled Charlie Crews medical report from Pelican Bay. Blood Work Clean. Lucky Man. Multiple assaults in those first six months. The psychological reports mentioned dissociative disorder in SHU. The assessment prior to him rejoining the force mentioned no cross-referencing of any concerns raised from his imprisonment. The analysis was a standard test for re-enlistment. No one had thought to offer Crews help to deal with his past.

At the end of the day Crews was pulled into Captain Tidwell's office. "You OK?"

"Yes, no. Maybe." Tidwell noted Crews was not his normal happy, zennish self.

"You went to see the shrink."

"I don't like Roswell." Charlie left it at that. He had no choice but to work with him. The guy was meant to be the lead investigator but Crews was doing all the work.

Tidwell nodded and then stated "Roswell is a temporary partner. Two months tops then Seever will be back. Stick him out. He might grow on you."

"He makes comments and never realizes that I was, up until to two years ago a lowlife, a maximum security prisoner, a con. He gets to me. Off the record I feel like sticking the bastard."

"That bad?" Tidwell asked concerned for his friend.

"Yeah. I'm off for some R and R. I need it"

Tidwell went back to his desk, sat down and reread the file sent up from Lynne Cool's office. Crews passed off repeated sexual assaults as a matter of course for surviving prison. Follow up sessions had been timetabled by the shrink. Tidwell knew Crews had pursued two unofficial personal investigations. The man had been driven and focused during his partnership with Reese, Crews was now floundering. Psych services would sort him out or he'd be receiving a medical discharge. He and Reese would visit Charlie, a guy needed his friends at times like these. He'd speak to Bobby Stark and Seever as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Charlie sat on the pier in Santa Monica and watched the sun slip into the ocean. He turned to see Sasha Suarez watching him. The blond haired young man smiled and asked "Dinner? My treat"

The japanese restaurant was small and intimate. Sasha Suarez ordered in Japanese. They ate and studied each other. Each enjoying the food and the secluded restaurant atmosphere.

Charlie pondered the blond kid adopted by a hispanic family "So is Sasha your given name or a nick name?"

"My given name was Alexander. I became Sasha when I was homeless and had no friends or family in Moscow. I was picked up by traffickers with another boy, Vlad. I never saw him again. They liked how I fought. I never backed down. I had spirit."

"So you teach karate and languages? Not going to college?"

"I'm a crap student. I got my high school certificate. High School was shit. I left home at 18. I was a bit wild back then. Parental boundaries were restricting. Ding did not like the fact I'd disappear and earn more money in a weekend than he made in a month. Not drugs but bare fist fighting. I'd dress up like a preppy asshole but as a sixth dan black belt I always won. The gangs liked the fact they made lots of sucker bets."

"I would have thought Ding would have sorted you out."

"Yeah he did. Him and four ex-marine buddies kidnapped me and showed me the error of my ways. Scared the crap out of my friends as well." Sasha then smiled showing a flash of slightly crooked, stained and chipped teeth. "So Detective Crews, would you like to come to my apartment for a nightcap."

Tidwell was the first to notice Crews whistling in the morning. Stark was the first to actually ask "Get laid last night? What was it one, two or three girls?"

Crews shook his head. "I went on a date. We talked and drank coffee."

"A date?"

Crews was over Jen, over Connie. He did not add any details for anyone to gossip about. Tomorrow he and Sasha were going hiking in the canyons to the north of LA.

They sat in the shade of an outcrop of rock, sparse scrub the only vegetation. The sun was shining but the temperature was OK, not hot, not cold. Four miles from the nearest road or track.

"So Detective. You want to know about my past."

"Did you cross paths with Roman Nebikov?"

"I met him once. In hospital here in LA." Sasha then took a long drink of water, then passed the canteen to Crews. "Roman was very interested in a kid who had removed two of his rivals in a thorough and efficient manner. He saw through my poor little victim act straight away." Sasha shifted position. "I said you looked like Yassen. You have to understand that he and I were not friends. I hated him. He destroyed my life. He killed my uncle in March 2001, when I was 14. It was not personal. Yassen was paid to kill lots of people. I went from good student with a good home to be at the beck and call of the people my uncle worked for. I worked as cover. Easier to smuggle items or people through borders if you look life a family. The stuff in the kids luggage or in the kid." Sasha knew his was speaking in generalisations and he sighed hating that period of his life so thoroughly he was still so jaded and bitter over his experiences. "I was anything they wanted me to be until I got too big, not cute enough anymore. Ended up on the streets. I stole to survive. My luck ran out." Sasha stretched out sunning himself. "Does that answer your questions, Detective?"

Crews then let out his secret, the one he had not said out loud since the drive through the orange grove. Crew's "I killed Roman." He'd killed him with the quick brutal efficiency that he learned in those first six months in prison.

Crews watched the kid smile and look straight into his eyes. "Good for you. Roman was a real piece of work and I nearly ended up working for him." Roman had visited him in hospital in 2002. Sasha had said straight to Roman's face that he could look after himself, just as he had after Malagosto. Roman had been very amused by this, stating Yassen would be proud of him. Roman had come to find out how Yassen had died. Roman and Yassen were friends from the early 1980's. Both street kids working their way up in the criminal gangs in Soviet Russia.

Sasha leaned back to sun himself, relaxing his body and enjoying the fact that Detective Crews was enjoying the view. "So Detective. I think you deserve a special thank you for ridding us of Roman Nebikov." Crews sat stunned as the young man showed off his long, lean and fit body. The kid was waiting for Crews to take the plunge; to decide if his affairs in prison were just desperation and lust or if it was something more. Crews made the decision to know this young man fully.

"I want you. Not just sex. I want you. Are you offering me the whole deal or just now?" Crews decided that his man was worth a complete change, a new start.

"You want the whole deal. I am yours to take and to keep." With that Crews crept forward to kiss Sasha brutally, possessively and completely. Crews opened the younger mans flies and pushed down his trousers and brought Sasha to climax with his hand while he kissed, bit and licked Sasha thoroughly, mapping the younger man's face, and neck.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" asked a panting and spent young man.

Crews smiled wistfully. "I can wait. Good things are worth waiting for. I have a huge bathroom, a king sized bed and a ridiculously large pool. I think I want us to go home to continue our conversation."

Sasha looked at the large unfurnished hall, the house looked un-lived in, before being led upstairs. It explained so much about Crews. Twelve years in prison and his bedroom furniture consisted a a king sized bed with top quality linen and nothing else. The bathroom was luxury personified. The towels were thick large and sinfully soft. Top of the range products on the shelves. Sasha stood in the shower and let Crews operate the several controls. "Can I taste you now, Detective?"

Crews watched as Sasha knelt and proceeded to make all distractions disappear as his world was reduced to the sensation of mouth, tongue and lips teasing, kissing, licking and sucking.

The low beams of the setting sun played on Sasha's blond hair and tanned skin as he dozed on the bed. Charlie gently touched the dark freckles avoiding the scars.

"You want to fuck me now, don't you?" Sasha watched Crews nod his head. "You have lube and condoms?" Again Crews nodded. "OK, some rules for you. Always safe sex. No condom, no fucking. If I say 'Krasny' I want you to stop what you are doing for a time out. Thats my safe word. If you don't stop I will make you. If you want to do anything beyond vanilla, we talk about it first. I have hang ups about certain things. Now you can take me to the moon and show me some stars."

Charlie woke to a knock on his front door. 9am, Saturday morning. Maybe it was Mormons. Crews put on a t-shirt and sweat pants. He'd invite them in for fruit and tea.

He opened to door to see Tidwell and Reese stood there.

"Hi guys. Come in. You want coffee?"

"Coffee would be great."

Crews noted a strange apprehension over his work mates as he fixed coffee and poured himself a glass of juice. The quiet made the movement upstairs ring through the house. The noise of someone showering quickly. Brushing teeth and noisily jumping stairs in their haste. Sasha stood in the entrance to the kitchen. "Late for work. I'll call you, Detective."

Tidwell looked stunned before stating "Your date?"

"Yes, that was Sasha. I think we are more than dating. Yeah, were a couple now. I guess."

Then Reese spoke "That was a guy. I'm sure that was a guy."

Crews actually smiled, looking at peace and happy. "Yes, Sasha is a guy. I think that means I'm out and proud now. Fruit anyone? I have cherries, kumquats, grapes, oranges and peaches"

Reese as usual drove them home. Tidwell then piped up "I guess I understand why Crews is seeing the shrink now. Falling for a guy. I'd be seeing a shrink." Kevin Tidwell then slapped his thighs and laughed "Shit. After he pulled that stunt with Roman. I was so fucking sure he was in love with you, Dani. God, I got that wrong. I can't believe I was jealous of you guys."

Reese sat thinking over her partner. His strong friendship with that fraudster, Earley made kind of sense. Crews trusted him. Earley, probably, was the only one who knew Crews was in denial over his sexuality. All that chasing of his ex, the string of girls. Charlie had come back to the job and had tried to shape his life to be the person he was before prison. Earley was there to keep Crews in connection with his real past, not the past he wanted to gloss over. Crews had saved her, not because he was in love with her, but because she and Tidwell were. She felt like a fool now, she had distanced herself from her friend to help him get over his unrequited love, when she was totally not what he was after. He had spent the last two years healing, getting over his anger, finding himself again. Reese then spoke. "We should go on a double date. You know to let Crews know we're cool with this."

"Sure honey. Anything you want. What does Crews eat except for fruit anyway?"

Reese could almost hit Tidwell. "We'll go for pizza or italian. Everyone likes italian."


	7. Chapter 7

Ted arrived back in LA with Olivia three days before Christmas, concerned that for the past few days Charlie had not answered any messages, texts or phone calls. Ted was worried as Charlie was not good alone. It seemed like he was down to speaking of work and not much else over the past weeks since he'd been cleared for duty again.

The house had a battered old Buick truck in the drive with both of Charlie's cars fixed up and looking brand new in front of the garage. The front door was ajar, meaning Charlie was at home. There were voices and splashing from the pool. Ted expected to find a bevy of beautiful girls but there was Charlie playing water polo with a tall skinny blond man.

Charlie was the first to notice his best friend standing on the patio looking jet lagged "Hey Ted. Sasha come met Ted, my room-mate."

Ted automatically thought this kid was another stray rescued by Charlie. The young man was beautiful and as scarred as Charlie. Matching scars on their chests. Ted had a sinking feeling he'd left Charlie when he needed Ted and he had gone back to thinking like a con. Ted knew Charlie had a couple of lovers in prison. Charlie had never crossed the line with Ted but Charlie was not adverse from taking what was offered. Maybe he'd got sick of chasing Jen, chasing the never ending string of girls for casual sex and gone back to normal behaviour for Charlie, a new room mate in every sense of the word.

"Hey Detective, this is your big bad banker?" The kid had an LA accent, just a touch of something hispanic in there. The young man smiled and offered his hand "Sasha Sanchez"

"Ted Earley. Umm I'll go get Olivia out of the car."

"I'll put some coffee on." Charlie looked at Sasha with his hard flat expressionless face. "OK not coffee? Tea? Lemonade? Some fruit juice?" At that Charlie face erupted into a big wide smile. Sasha liked to tease Crews, suggesting cops all drank gallons of coffee and ate donuts by the tray. Well, his dad did.

Charlie finally met Olivia and they got on famously. Sasha cooked a large stirfry and Olivia was fine moving into the one bedroomed apartment above the Garage with Ted.

Ted went in the kitchen to help Sasha tidy up after Olivia had retired and Charlie was on the phone to Rachel.

"So have you lived here long?" asked Ted.

"No. I moved in two days ago." Sasha continued to clean off dishes and load the dishwasher. "I guess you want some background. Charlie and I met three weeks ago. He followed me around for ten days and then we started dating. He's a bit of the big silent type." Sasha half smiled with a dreamy look on his face, before turning back to face Ted, fully serious "I know you don't approve. Let me tell you about myself. I had a rough time before Carlos and Ding adopted me. I lived on the streets, I had been used and abused. Complete hell for eighteen months after my fourteenth birthday. I have spent the last five years hiding, afraid and unhappy. I could not allow myself to relax and just be. I had a home but I was continually sure my past would catch up with me and everything would go to shit again. Charlie understood that I surf to get in a moment untouched by pain, hurt and bitterness. Charlie watched me. I guess I liked the fact he wanted to get to know me despite knowing I lie, tell half truths and hide who I used to be. Can you understand that?"

Ted stood and let Sasha's speech sink in. The one thing Ted had learned in prison was how to read people. Getting the shit beat out of you and worse meant you knew who was the type to do it and who had been there on the receiving end. This kid had been on the receiving end. Charlie kept collecting broken people, but then again Charlie was pretty much broken. Ted wished he's known Crews before, but apart from a few short conversations about Jen, Crews did not talk about life before Pelican Bay.

Sasha watched Ted. The man was deep in thought. "You're now about to tell me Charlie's straight. I was sure I was straight when I was 15. I've been pretending to be straight since then. Charlie likes to fuck girls. Who doesn't? Charlie loves, loved, Jen his ex-wife. Christ that woman must be delusional to let a man like Charlie go, but a life sentence without parole kind of scuppers any relationship. Charlie's already told me about Raoul and Manfred at Pelican Bay. You think Prison is different to the real world. Not for him. Love is love. There are no boundaries or expectations. It just is. Deal with it."

Ted could get that, Crews had no restrictions now, in fact he probably could deal with male companionship at a deeper level than females. It wasn't as if he opened up to ny of his police colleagues. "So you think Charlie is a great guy?"

"Yeah. He wanted the whole tamale not just sex." Sasha then followed in a soft whisper "He wanted me completely." The young man then changed subject, back onto arrangements over the next few days "I think Charlie's having a shit time at work. He's on shift over the holidays. We won't be here. I'm spending the holidays at home and Charlie is too, when he's not working." Sasha finished tidying and turned around with arms crossed. "Are you guys staying here?"

Ted thought of the holidays spent in bed with his delightful new wife with no interruptions sounded perfect. "Yeah I guess we are."

"Cool. I'm off to bed. If you hear screaming its just the coyotes. Night." Ted stared after the kid, Why had he mentioned the coyotes. Ted hated those animals.

Sasha sprinted up the stairs to find Crews lying on the bed waiting for him, naked, already hard and stroking his cock. The t-shirt, jeans and sneakers were quickly shed and Sasha crawled up the bed to kiss his lover.

Ted woke to find Olivia already up. Ted entered the kitchen from the patio to the sound of Olivia's soft laughter. Crew's dressed for work drinking a thick fruit based smoothy.

"Ted. Have a smoothy. There's plenty in the blender. Sasha brought a blender. He does great shakes and smoothies. His fruit punch is the best. He bakes as well. There's blueberry muffins." Charlie said all this with that open beguiling smile in place. He looked happy.

"Sure Charlie. Any plans for the holidays?"

"Umm no plans. Working until the 28th, then I have four days off. You?"

Ted thought. "No plans. No plans at all. Maybe shopping today. It is the 23rd today."

"I have to go. Sasha and I have a date tonight. Don't wait up."

Reese looked at the restaurant as the valet took away her very average car. The line waiting outside was immense. Tidwell spoke first "Hey This place is fancy. Isn't it?"

"Yeah Fancy. Crews said Sasha knew a member of staff."

They were shown to a booth. Crews stood and pointed at the wall of glass and the great view of the marina. "Hey Reese, Captain. Look at all the boats. Isn't it great here. Number five works here. It is no. 5 isn't it?"

"Yeah Chico, foster kid no. 5 works here." said Sasha with a amused smirk on his face.

Reese sat and looked puzzled "Foster kid?"

"Yeah, we foster kids kind of give ourselves numbers. Ding Sanchez and Carlo Ruiz are my dads." Sasha then smiled and whispered, "Only us kids call Carlos mom. He doesn't like it, but he is mom."

A slow dawning of understanding crossed her face. Ding Sanchez had retired just after she left the Academy. "You're dating one of Sergeant Sanchez's kids. Which number are you?"

"Umm three, the crazy russian one."

"St. Saviours?"

"Yep. Good detecting work there. Bet you heard all the great stories of what little shits we, nos. 2 and 3, were. Angel's inside at the moment. Possession with the intent to supply. A complete frame up job. Angel would not dare to get mixed up with drugs. He's just a bookie, you know."

"Just a bookie." Reese said drily.

"He's gonna have a fit when I tell him I'm dating a cop. Crews is cool though. I guess you guys are cool as well. Is it true you're from New York, Captain? I like New York, its buzzing."

The waitress came over. "You guys, like wine?" queried Sasha.

Crews shook his head, but Reese stated "You guys drink I'll stick to water"

"Umm OK a bottle of Sancerre, and the Bourgone."

Tidwell looked at the menu. "This is french. Christ! fancy does not cover this."

"I taught Chico to speak french. He really milks it, here. His accent is OK, but he really needs to go to Paris. He'd nail his accent then." mused Sasha before explaining, "If the menu's a problem, tell me what you like and I'll order. Its standard food just with pretentious overtones. You know, steak, chicken umm pork. The chateaubriand is like pot roast for christ's sake."

"$120 for pot roast?" Tidwell choked.

"I'm paying" stated Crews. "Just order the pot roast, and fries."

Reese at the end of the meal felt like burping but this was not the type of place you could do that. It had been the best meal she had ever had. The seafood cocktail had been served in a coconut shell. Crews had started with melon and ham. Fillet steak pot roast was new one on her. The salad, the sides and the dessert were all fabulous and she felt like she'd put on at least ten pounds, but hey its christmas.

Sasha was talking in quiet spanish to his one time brother before they left. They had been so engrossed in the meal and Sasha talking of his family, time had passed in a blur.

Crews smiled as they all exited. "We must do this again. Double date. Maybe a ball game or hockey next time"

Tidwell smiled "My treat, we'll talk after the holidays. Meeting my new mom in law tomorrow. Wish me luck. Happy Holidays."

"You talk when your nervous." Crews said as he drove back home.

"Well Reese was not the most talkative person. You talk about fruit or zen when you're on edge and I could talk for months about all the shit I've got into since I came to LA. Tidwell has some cool stories. We should go to New York. I've never done the whole New York thing. Have you?" Sasha was practically lounging in the passenger seat, peasantly full and with a good wine buzz.

"No I've never been to New York. Never travelled really. I fancy Hawaii. Surfs good there. I like watching you surf. I could eat tropical fruit and watch you surf."

"Your nuts Detective. Maybe thats why I like you. "


	8. Chapter 8

Charlie was at work at 8am on Christmas Day. No calls so far, just paperwork. Just a few guys in the office. Charlie put a note up to remind himself to update personnel, as he was no longer single. Crews smiled to himself and opened his top drawer. There was a box containing an apple, an orange, a pomegranate and a jar of homemade Raspberry jam. Funny, Sasha said jam not jelly. The other package was a CIA file. The post it note stated For Your Eyes Only Crews. I mean it. Burn after reading or get a safety deposit box. Enjoy. Charlie hid the file in a plank file cover. Lunch came and no homicides so far. Charlie took the file to the roof and began to read. He was both horrified and angry. Sasha had been an espionage agent. Birth name Alexander John Rider. The file gave a date of death. Sasha had kept in his makeshift legend after being burned, now enough time had passed he had become irrelevant.

Charlie was just in the moment, conspiracies on hold. Charlie guessed Rayborn was no longer interested in him now he had Jane Seever in his pocket and that girl was going places.

The day over and he was off to Compton, to another world. The house was full, a mixture of teenagers, young adults, friends and a series of tables placed in a row in the back yard with various mismatched table cloths, paper napkins, assorted china, glassware and silverware. Homemade Christmas decorations and table settings. Charlie had even been to mass last night with everyone. He stood out but so did Sasha. He watched as Sasha observed his devotions, the service in spanish.

The family dynamic was loud. Conversations in english and spanish spoken over the brash christmas CD playing in the background. Sasha helping in the kitchen. The foster kids, twenty three in total, with only three missing from the holiday meal. One in jail (No. 2), one moved to Arizona with his mother (No. 11) and one in the army in Afghanistan (No. 1). Charlie was almost caught out when grace was spoken. He thought back to his own childhood. A quiet house, Charlie was an only child. He'd been an introspective, neat kid, close to his mother. His dad worked, always distant. He'd always been independent and insular. His friendships had been few but strong. All gone now. He would never go to a High School or Academy reunion. He was damn sure he'd never reconnect with his father. No Zen for daddy, ever. Constance had been right on the button there. He'd settle for never communicating except by lawyer. Sasha had found family here even though he'd been closed off and afraid to open up. Ding and Carlos had persevered to help him. Fighting for him when Sasha just wanted to pull away. They'd had their fair share of difficult placements, all seemed to find a home from home here. This loud boisterous meal proved that. It explained so much about Sasha.

As Crews sat watching the moon rise Carlos, Mom to this strange brood sat next to Charlie. It was strange after knowing Ding, he'd have thought he was the boss at home. Carlos had been his marine team mate. The pair only coming out and living together after they had left the corps. Carlos was here to lay down the law. Carlos was the boss.

"So, Detective Crews, Sasha has told you about himself."

"Yes Sir."

"You are both alike. Both strong individuals to survive what you have had to endure. You must remember that Sasha is fragile. Not weak, but you have to be aware he has been hurt, abused, broken."

"I can relate to that. I think I could sense that about him. I care about Sasha so much already."

"Look after him." Carlos then mused over their child. "I never expected Sasha to be gay to tell you the truth. He and Angel, umm Foster kid No. 2, were close. They tended to date together. Angel treated the girls like shit. Sasha collected a female fan club."

Crews remained quiet. Then Carlos asked the million dollar question. "Are you gay, Detective Crews? Or are you just confused after prison?"

"I had two lovers in Prison. I say lovers because they were just that. We were intimate and also accepting. Whatever people say about Ted Earley and myself, we have only ever been friends. If he'd been interested we may have been more, but Ted is so very straight." Crews shifted and carried on, "I guess I never questioned my sexuality when I was younger. I started dating Jen when we were 15. We were each others firsts, we married at 21. I was sure it was forever. Prison made me think women were something I'd never deal with again. I was a convicted murder with three life terms, innocent or not. I did not engage in consensual sex until after my divorce." Charlie collected his thoughts, it made so much sense. Being gay probably explains his reticence over Constance. "I had a major thing with my lawyer. Completely harmless when I was inside and completely hopeless when I was out. She was smart enough not to get caught in my massive round of meaningless sex after my acquittal. I tried so hard to prove to myself I was back 100% heterosexual. It took falling for Sasha to open my eyes."

Carlos then shared about his past "Ding and I fell for each other with glances, notes and the mask of friendship. We abstained but put in to leave the marines after that tour. Marine life and being out do not mix. Don't ask don't tell was a complete fallacy. I saw him and the bottom fell out of my world and Ding was there to catch me after I got over my initial denial. Ding had always known girls did nothing for him. He expected a lonely life, no family. We have been blessed. Expect trouble. There will be prejudice. You are already viewed as a maverick. Many will put it down to your time in prison. Do you think you'd have come out if you'd stayed with Jen?"

"There's the question. You have to meet Capt. Tidwell, my boss. He's had three marriages. He sees each divorce as a linear path that cops go through. My life was ruined at the age of twenty four. I remade myself after that mammoth stint in Solitary to take any affection or connection with my fellow man that I could. Maybe prison made me gay, but I think at some point Jen and I would have broken up. Police marriages are rocky. I was a selfish bastard too. My bar, my friends, my job. She marched to my tune. Not right for her at all. I'm not the same person I was. Easier and more difficult in ways. I need things totally stupid for most people. I think I'm insanely claustrophobic. That's something to go over with the shrink, this week."

New Year started with Rachel returning home. Rachel loved the subtle changes to the house. The sofa, recliner and flat screen TV with top of the range sound system and blue ray player in the den. All belonging to Sasha. He'd learned Police Auctions were the place to get top quality goods at rock bottom prices. The room also had two large prints of the surf, strangely esoteric, structural and beautiful, on the wall. Rachel was already plotting at getting a car at the next auction. She also complained again about the lack of kitchen table. Crews watched as Sasha and Rachel emerged as co conspirators in a game of getting Charlie to buy some more furniture. A compromise was reached with a patio dining set, lighting and some patio fruit trees being purchased. The side bargain was Charlie taking a very nervous Sasha to the dentist. The young man balked at cosmetic dentistry stating a checkup twice a year was more than enough time spent in a dentists' chair. That evening on the mountain overlooking Charlie's house Sasha explained his hatred of the chair not the dentist and spoke for the first time of Jack and the events in Cairo in June 2002.

Charlie stood eating an apple, staring at the tumbling water. He liked Lynne's office. It was possibly the only zen thing in the whole police building. Lynne was watching him. Charlie liked talking to Lynne. Talking to the shrink was seen as a no-no by other officers but Charlie found he needed to talk. Sometimes about cases, sometimes about zen, sometimes about prison. Today was his issues over locks, fences and furniture.

"Do you want to meet Sasha? I think Sasha would like you Lynne. He gets on great with Rachel. They're already great friends. Sasha did not have many friends in High School. The way he describes his experiences there, they reflect mine, a cop in prison, a gringo in an East LA school. He played up being russian. A real dissenter. He was a fish out of water."

"Does he talk of his past?"

"He does to me and to his family. He lived a real horror story." Crews mused with a cross face thinking of Sasha. "He is still scared by his past like he expects it'll reach forward and destroy us, his life here, his happiness. I try to get him to see that life is now not then."

"I don't think there is anyone in LA who did not read or watch the news on TV about those kids."

"Did you read his case file?"

"Thats against procedures, Detective."

Crews then looked at Lynne. "Is it against the rules for you to come over for coffee or a meal and meet my family." Crews then broke out in a warm genuine smile. "Family... I have family, Lynne. I never thought I'd ever say that again. Not after... Not after.. you know."

"I know Charlie; and I would love to meet your family. I'll just get my diary, OK."

Charlie was socializing. A life outside work and his own investigations. His one invite to Bobby's home last year had not been repeated. Crews was never invited to poker nights or for drinks. His relationship with Reese was based on work and had only progressed to friendship after they stopped being partners. After the whole kidnapping incident she had returned to her mother's before getting serious with Tidwell. Even before prison it had been Jen who had made friends with other officer's wives. Crews was happy with a small group of friends.


	9. Chapter 9

February 27th 2005

Joe Byrne was sat in the park in Georgetown. He'd retired just before Christmas. God, he now spends his days spent sorting through his diaries and paperwork. He'd thought about writing a history of operations or maybe a spy novel. He had loads of time on his hands now. His wife, Marge wanted to go on a cruise. He was trying to put that off. Sat on a boat for a month with other retired couples. No, that was not his idea of a relaxing holiday. Maybe trekking in the Himalayas or traveling across Australia and New Zealand. They would compromise, eventually. His mobile rang. Number withheld. Probably just another sales call he thought. After nine weeks away from operations he was already just an ordinary joe.

A deep voice in Moscow accented russian talked as soon as they connected "Hello Joe...Remember me."

"Who is this?" Joe spat out, completely defensive.

"I guess I should sound more like this." The language changed to English and accent reverted to the flattish tones of a Londoner.

"Alex? Alex Rider?"

"Now you know Alex Rider died 2 and a half years ago." the voice sounded vaguely chastising or was it humour.

"What can I help you with?" Joe was almost 100% sure this was Alex on the phone.

"Heads up for you. I know you're no longer active just like me, but Roman Nebikov put a hit out on the CIA operative in his Moscow drug ring. Thats all I know. Someone at Langley should be able to connect the dots. Roman is a fucking psycho so if you don't get the guy out he will be subjected to a long, slow, nasty demise."

"Thanks for the info... Are you working for Roman?"

"Hell no. Roman offered but I can look after myself. Be seeing you." At that the phone went dead.

Christina Schultz-Smith was the new Assistant Director of the CIA: Covert Operations. She was snowed under with operations in Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. She was due in a meeting five minutes ago and then her personal cell phone rang. Joe Byrne. What the hell was Joe calling about?

"Christina, an old contact of mine called in. He has got intel that Roman Nebikov has got wind of a deep cover agent in Moscow. I have no names or anything specific only that a contract has been placed. Get your man out now."

"Who is your contact? Is this reliable?"

"Just trust me on this. This guy was burned by another agency and left for dead."

"Fuck, He now works for Roman?"

"No, Freelance. I think."

"Who is this contact, Joe?"

"I can't talk on the phone. Your ears only." Joe knew this pushing acceptable intel, but if Alex was still in Russia there was next to no way to track him down if his legend was good enough to fool State Security there. Hell, Alex's file had no mention of him knowing any russian never mind speaking it like a native. Then again you can learn a lot very fast if your life depends on it.

Christina was genuinely shocked about the news of a fourteen/fifteen year old operative used across agencies over 18 months; when, she had been running the station in Islamabad. "Jesus, Joe. MI6 burned a fifteen year old kid. I have fucking heard everything now."

"The message was very guarded. Sent to my personal phone, bought after I retired. I bet he called on a phone bought just for that one message. Alex said he'd retired."

"The kid was trained by Scorpia and has contacts with Roman Nebikov. That only ties him down to about half the globe. You sure he spoke russian with a Moscow accent." Christina went over Byrne's short hand notes again. "Shit, the kid may be known by our agent. We'll have to interrogate him when he lands at Dulles tomorrow."

"Is the Moscow operation completely blown?"

"No far from it we have three other Russian born assets in place. Mossad are giving us their intel on Nebikov as well. He has some well placed contacts here. Our operation is just information gathering." Christina wondered about a teenage asset with a phenomenal success rate. "Joe do you want to pull this kid in?"

"Christina I highly doubt we'll get within a hundred miles of Alex. If we get close he will run. The kid had what was left of Scorpia after him as well. He'll have a different face, different mannerisms, a completely different life. I doubt I would recognise him. He was still a kid after Cairo, he'll be fully grown now. Shit, Jones promised not to use him again after Cairo. I told you when you were promoted not to trust that bitch."

"And she seemed OK to me. Guess my assessment of her was way off. I thought you just didn't like her for personal reasons. Strident personality and all." Christina joked knowing most men hated a woman boss.

Joe Byrne pulled a thick stack of files from his office safe "I got copies of Scorpia's files on Alex. He underwent full psychological analysis at Malagosto. He told them details which explain so much. He was blackmailed after his uncle's death to work for MI6, and us and the Australians. Once he got in, he could not get out. They had him on a tight leash. He was a mess after Cairo. I have to say I failed Alex. I was assured by Tulip Jones that he would not be used again. I thought he was to stay with the Pleasures in San Francisco permanently. Twelve weeks after he got here they got to him again. I had not expected it. I should have put him in witness protection. Those bastards got him back and left him high and dry. By the time we found out he was in Moscow Alex's trail was cold. He'd disappeared."

Christina then pondered everything. "Can I use your computer?"

"Sure thing."

She typed with quick efficient strokes, pulling up intel over the secure server. "Roman Nebikov is in Las Vegas. If Alex got the intel recently. Your boy Alex is there as well. He's either working for the Mob or Nebikov. He stated he didn't work for Roman, so he's a wise guy now."

Byrne sighed. He did not want to tell anyone the last facts he knew of Alex, but he had no choice. "The last MI6 operation Alex worked on in Moscow had Alex traded as a fifteen year old English virgin to Igor Zelinski. He may still be working as a whore or be a slave to some sick fuck. I looked but if he was traded on before Zelinski died, as I suspect, he could be with anyone. He's still only 18. The fact he called this in suggests he has some freedom of movement, but Alex was a very resourceful asset."

Chritina mused on the fact a boy sold by his own country as a fuck toy, with no way out. "Do you think he's fallen for who bought him?"

"Yes. If he's being cared for, protected, loved. He'll want to stay put."


	10. Chapter 10

September 23rd 2002.

The litany of 'Oh Christ, Oh Fuck. Shit buggery fuck.' kept running through Alex's brain. Mark was dead. What the hell was Alex meant to do? Some fucking insane gang war had broken out. Alex had been in the toilet when the shooting started. He had squeezed out of a broken window and legged it. Cops and State Security were now everywhere. Alex milled about in the crowd and had seen the line of thirty bodies. Mark and his grey suit and cowboy boots was easily recognizable even as a corpse, so was the slime-ball Zelinski by his girth. Donovan was the lead agent. Alex was there as a trade, a blond english virgin for Zelinski to enjoy. That sicko liked kids to play with. John Crawley thought trading Alex was acceptable to get an operative deep cover in with Zelinski's mob.

Alex had nothing. No money, no passport or any form of identity papers and he was dressed like a rent boy. He did not know Moscow at all. No one had given him any relevant intel. He did not know any safe houses, contacts or even if there was any back up team. Thank god he'd studied russian language tapes before he came here. He was on his own. In three hours he's bought a more respectable outfit after pickpocketing several tourists. He had enough dollars for a hotel but without a passport he could not risk it. He wandered round to the apartment where he'd stayed with Mark. The place had been turned over. With nothing familiar, Alex had to beg or steal enough money to buy papers, and then get the fuck out of Dodge.

The first night he slept under a bridge in Gorky Park. Hours spent going over events as he replayed the past week over and over in his head. He had the dreadful feeling he had just been burned. He was as good as dead. He posted three letters, just a note to his friends, quick goodbyes to his past life. Did he really have anything to go back to? He had to get into a gang. Earn money, but with a credible legend. He could not read russian. He had just enough knowledge of Cuba to pull off being half russian, half cuban; in Moscow to look for family. The only russians he knew were a billionaire nutcase, a general and an assassin, all dead. Maybe he could play it that he was looking for a friends of his father's. He wandered into town and traded dollars for rubles. Now he needed a knife and a gun.

He kept moving so not to encroach on anyone's turf. To be homeless was to be the equivalent of invisible. He had to wait until everything blew over or he'd get picked up by state security or worse MI6. He became sort of friends to another homeless kid, Vlad. Vlad was not the brightest but he was an excellent decoy for scams and stealing. He also had contacts with the local minor criminals. Alex had became Sasha. No one cared about his background. He just existed. Their lives before the streets were irrelevant. He was here to survive, not get caught. Being without papers was a criminal offence in its self. Most kids on the streets worked to buy fake identities so the authorities could not catch up with them. Being on the streets was better than home, the orphanage or youth detention centre. After two weeks, Alex worked as a runner, he got more interesting jobs as he could speak English and Spanish. He learned of a Cuban doctor and dentist without work permits doing under the counter work. Alex skimmed while stealing, taking a cut. He had to erase all clues to his past. When he disappeared for a day and came back with a 'broken nose', he passed it off as being beaten and patched up. Not the fact he'd had a basic nose job and then he had his fillings replaced with gold. He could now pass for russian, all traces of British dental work erased.

He stood looking a contact who stated he could get Alex out of Russia with a shipment to America. Alex grasped at this lifeline like a fool. The mafia contacts reeled in street kids with the promise of America and they ended up in the clutches of a gang of child smugglers.


	11. Chapter 11

December 2002

Alex was first aware of his headache, then his thirst. The strange rhythmic sounds of the monitors and the drip echoed in his ears like terrible echoes. He noted the nurse moving around and he mumbled for water. Or at least he thought he did, it sounded like a long rasping groan in reality. Finally he opened his eyes. ICU, he guessed. White, lots of pain. The edge taken off full agony, just the dull edge of pain all over his body.

The nurse was talking but Alex could not concentrate on the actual words. He fell back to sleep.

Alex next woke to Natasha reading to him. He lay looking at her reading diligently from a book he did not recognise. It was strange hearing a different russian from the colloqual slang used on the streets in Moscow. Classical russian was smooth, beautiful and precise. Alex only had knowledge of the basic Russian leaned during his six week crash course in survival.

Natasha looked up and noticed the solemn brown eyes watching her. She jumped up to get a nurse.

Steven Bannerman was at a loss. Four of the kids had already been identified with replacement ID's and were cleared to return to Moscow, but the one in ICU had no missing person report and none of the other kids knew anything about him except he was a fifteen year old petty thief from Moscow called Sasha. The press attache from the Russian embassy in Washington DC was coming to interview the boy himself.

A spike of pure fear gripped Alex as the four gentlemen from the Russian embassy came to interview him. Alex recogised Yevgeny Shvenlenko. They had met the summer previously when Alex had been in Moscow following Alexei Sarov's failed coupe and suicide.

Alex noted one of the burly guards had an interesting box of electronics, a portable scrambler. No one would be overhearing their conversation.

The Russian State Security Agent spoke in English with deep even tones. "Good Afternoon, Alexander. I would like to thank you again for saving those children. Once again the Russian government owes you a debt of gratitude."

Alex looked at the man with open horror before speaking in Russian. "Have you told the American's who I am?"

The Russian smiled. "Do not worry, Alexander. We know MI6 sold you to that pervert, Zelinski and then burned you. You have a fine grave next to your uncle's in London. I attended your burial service myself." A hard expression crossed the older man's face. "You have nothing to fear from us. You deserve peace and a life not corrupted by MI6."

A sob escaped from Alex. He had guessed right. Alex Rider no longer existed. All control was lost and he wept for all that had been taken from him, his life, his home, his friends and his innocence. The Social worker looked in and saw the Russian Attache comfort the poor broken boy, who had refused to talk to anyone except Natasha since he had woken. The boy just stared with empty blank eyes, ignoring everyone.

Yevgeny looked on through the glass partition as the exhausted boy slept. He now went into the conference with health care professionals and Children's Services. The fake file in his hands detailed a life of a young half cuban/half russian orphan boy, whose uncle had worked for Alexei Sarov as an assistant, former KGB and a traitor. The details roughly matched Alex's own life with Scorpia, the death of his uncle and 'sister' and living on the streets of Moscow. The legend had been perfected with the help of the Cuban Security services. Both agencies owed the young boy. He had reassured Alex that they would help him either in Russia or here in America. Problems with the CIA or Homeland Security were on the back burner as Alex Rider was officially dead. Alex was safe and hidden from his former employers.

Yevgeny told the Social workers that if Sasha returned to Russia he would be placed in Youth Detention for an indefinite amount of time to reassure State Security he was not a threat like his uncle and his associates had been. The Social Worker had a fit as Yevgeny had planned. By the end of the day Sasha or Aleksandr Ivanovich Dubrenev was a ward of the State of California, his file with restricted access until he reacted 18.

Alex had memorised all that the Russian had told him. Alex had friends in high places in Russia and Cuba. It made the fact his own country had stabbed him in the back hurt all the worse. Russia was too hot for him to go back to, so he was now an immigrant, no a refugee in America. Everything would change, hopefully for the better. Alex was very apprehensive as foster care awaited him. Life on the streets in Moscow had been a steep learning curve. Sasha his alter ego, well now his full legend, had done things no one should have to resort to in order to survive, and earn enough money. Vlad had refused to go into the seedier side of things but Alex had been desperate to earn a lot of hard currency, so he got down on his knees and had sucked cock. Alex guessed he was not averse to the whole thing because, if he was honest with himself, he wasn't completely straight. Yevgeny had been completely horrified that Alex had fallen into the sex trade at the instigation of MI6, it had been one of the main motivators for them helping him. Alex guessed him shrugging the incident off also flagged up major concerns over his mental and emotional state. Alex hated shrinks, talking over things he wanted just to forget.

Alex's first session with the child psychologist was like a battle with Alex adamant he be called Sasha and refusing to acknowledge his full given name Aleksandr Ivanovich Dubrenev or to talk about his past at all.

"Aleksandr, could we discuss your injuries. Broken ribs, a broken wrist, severe bruising and the fact you had been raped."

Alex looked at the doctor and simply stated. "My name is Sasha. Don't call me Aleksandr, my uncle called me that."

"OK Sasha. Tell me about your uncle."

"His lies and betrayal led me here, caused my suffering. Caused my sister's death. Why talk over the past? Talk will not change the fact it happened." Alex lay back and thought of Jack, his guardian, his sister. Her death was as much the blame of MI6 as it was Scorpia. Then Alex looked at the cast on his right wrist, the drip attached to his left arm. He was no longer on oxygen and the urine catheter had been removed. He was here now. Here he was Sasha. Alex was dead. He was lying in a hospital in Los Angeles. "My past is irrelevant. I am here. I have survived." After getting away from the hoods, and got the kids safe he had wanted to die. He had been prepared to die. Alex thought back to being on the streets. Eating discarded food because you were so hungry and then chucking it up because it was rotten. You learned to be hungry. Eating was a luxury, like being warm and dry.

"Sasha, tell me about the men who raped and beat you."

Alex swore in russian. He then looked at the man asking the questions and smiled. "I am a whore. I get fucked for money. There I got fucked so they would leave the others alone. I am used to my body being nothing but a means to an end. $20 I suck you off. $50 you can fuck me. That is my life. If I'm lucky the dumb fuck is slow or drunk and I can empty his wallet before he notices. You see a victim lying here. I tell you I am what I am. No amount of talking will change the fact that I am a whore and that I am a thief."

They had told him his foster parents were coming today. Alex smiled inwardly at how Yevgeny had maneuvered the Social Workers to protect him as a vulnerable child in danger from unlawful imprisonment. It all played out as a minor diplomatic incident. Alex would play the waiting game. He had to become a ghost to survive. He had his evaluations in place. Therapy was required. He had at least a month before having to worry about school.


End file.
